Jack
by Roseclaw
Summary: The cure for homosexuality in the world of magic was the same as any other violation of the Ministry of Magic: the kiss of a dementor. He didn’t want to be kissed by anything other than a comely man, preferably brunet, but blond would suffice. ADTR sla


All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are copyrighted trademarks and property of J. K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and all peoples associated. The characters of these fictions are used WITHOUT permission for the entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. As if anyone would actually pay money for this thoughtless drivel. And even if they like it, it's right here and money is not required. So there! Bottom line: I don't own them I just like to play God with them. Like an ant walking back and forth across my feet for what seems like miles upon miles. Or a bug with a magnifying glass as it slowly burns into nothingness. *Ahem* Yes, I don't own them. Never have. Never will. *Sigh* 

**Pairings**: AD/TR  
**Contents**: Angst Blood Slash 

**Spoilers**: Yup. They're there. Mostly Riddleverse  
**Summary**: The cure for homosexuality in the world of magic was the same as any other violation of the Ministry of Magic: the kiss of a dementor. He didn't want to be kissed by anything other than a comely man, preferably brunet, but blond would suffice.  
**Status**: To be continued, if more is wanted. 

**A/N**: This is an unbeta-ed version, so if reviewers want me to continue, I'll fix this up a bit. I'm also playing around with the timeline… just a bit. This is more of a teaser than a chapter. 

Jack

He had found no satisfaction in the bodies of those young women of the night. None. Nothing measurable to the satisfaction he received from their male counterparts.

That was why he had let the men live and not spared the women. It was not supposed to happen that way. He was supposed to find solstice within the women and find men vile and unappealing. But it had not happened that way. And he was thoroughly damned.

"This happens to be your own doing," he informed the corpse morosely. This was his sixth kill and she was the same as her five proceeders: she had failed to satisfy him.

She looked up at him through death-fogged eyes. Pity, she was so responsive in live. She had to be, that was what she was paid for.

He took out his butterfly and slit her throat in a slow, clean cut. Right to left. Blood spurted and her body gave one last buck before she truly died.

He leaned over her chest and cut carefully through her clothing. If the police were clever enough they would put his past kills together with this one to find his message. But the police were not clever; they would never find his message, not that they could even begin to comprehend it. After all, Latin was a dead language.

Sighing to himself, he cut a small hole in her middle, dexterously removing her gallbladder. It would be of use to him later.

"Excuse me, sir, are you quite right?"

He looked up at the voice through calm, blue eyes. "Of course," he replied with equal calm.

"Oh, I was – " The man caught sight of the bloodied body. " – Dear God! What have you done?! Police!"

He casually pointed a stick at the man. "Stupefy."

The other man stopped squawking.

"Obliviate," he followed up, sending the other man away in a bewildered daze that he would not even remember.

"I'm dreadfully sorry about the interruption," he apologized empathetically to the corpse.

He poured Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover on his own bloodied ropes, cleansing them.

Standing up, he admired his handiwork, making sure that every detail was in place. She was sufficiently bloody.

He then looked to the sky, which was turning the grayish-yellow that signifies the dawn.

He pocketed the gallbladder, still drenched with blood, the knife, and his wand, Disapparating into the dawn, leaving the woman in his wake.

~*~~*~ 4 Decades Later ~*~~*~

"May I inquire as to what you are researching now, Mr. Riddle?" A hand rested on his shoulder.

"You may," Tom responded, brushing the hand off without removing his eyes from his book. "However I an not inclined to answer."

Yes. He had expected an answer much like that.

"If you must know, this is for Advanced Muggle Studies. Oddly enough I never had the… opportunity to research this at the… Institution. It is a comparative essay between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds."

"I hadn't expected such an informative answer," he replied, intrigued and encouraged to extract more information. He sat down next to Tom. "May I be of service?"

Tom chewed the tip of his sugarquill, formulation a response. "Not unless you are familiar with homosexuality in the Wizarding world," he said after some time.

His face darkened and he made to leave. "I am dreadfully sorry, but I know none of that."

Tom glanced quizzically at the empty chair his professor was just in.

Whatever it was about the subject, Albus wanted to avoid it.

Tom filed it, making sure he would know the answer within the last few months of the term. He then returned to his studies. He wanted to ensure that he would be Head Boy next year.

It also kept Albus from breathing down his neck.

Kill one student and the teachers are on you like flies to carrion.

~~TBC~~

Is it worth continuing?

I don't even know if they had butterflies back then (the make of knives), but it's supposed to be ironic, so I kept it.


End file.
